<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>and kiss your fingers forevermore by uptillthree</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22421965">and kiss your fingers forevermore</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/uptillthree/pseuds/uptillthree'>uptillthree</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic, M/M, damen realizing virginity is a social construct, dumbest thing ive written by far, laurent’s anxiety, unbearable fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 17:20:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,150</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22421965</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/uptillthree/pseuds/uptillthree</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“What?” Damen says, eyes still shut.</p><p>Laurent turns around, so his back is pressed to Damen’s chest. Damen finds his hand absently and his thumb finds a new rhythm in drawing circles there. “It’s— really stupid.”</p><p>There’s a kiss pressed to the back of his neck, then. “I wouldn’t mind.”</p><p>Laurent stares at him over his shoulder. Damen’s eyes are tired and open and earnest. As always when it comes to Damen, it’s the lack of pretense that disarms him. “Do I still fuck like a virgin?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>454</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>and kiss your fingers forevermore</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>title from mitski’s your best american girl. u know the one</p><p>the thesis statement of this fic is ‘damen’s always so aware and self-assured that laurent’s bullshit mostly just slides off him like water, but when it’s damen who claps back laurent is Completely Obliterated,’ enjoy</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This is the problem: Laurent loses his balance on Damen’s lap, sighing and sated and sleepy, and Damen steadies him on instinct before Laurent can even gasp. </p><p>“Good?”</p><p>“Hnnn.” </p><p>Damen laughs, voice rough. Both their breaths are still shallow. </p><p>This is the problem: Laurent falls loose-limbed beside him on their bed, and the rush of safety would have set him on edge a few months ago, and it doesn’t anymore. He can feel Damen’s come still, in him and slipping out, a little, and the sensation is easily familiar.</p><p>Some deep embedded compulsion makes Laurent want to get off the bed, to clean Damen up and then clean himself up and be blissfully alone, but he’s exhausted and comfortable enough that it seems more like a chore. So instead, he says, “Well? Attend me,” smiling faintly, with eyebrows raised in a challenge. </p><p>Damen snorts and rolls his eyes at the command, but he knows Laurent too well. He doesn’t say anything while he picks up the hand towel from the nightstand and wipes them both down, pouring Laurent a glass of water, allowing Laurent his thoughts. This is the problem: Laurent feels sensitive, unarmored, <em> good </em> all at once. He can’t pinpoint why this <em> after </em> feels so intimate when he’s just had Damen’s dick up his ass. </p><p>After, Damen opens his arms, and it should alarm Laurent, probably, that he doesn’t even have to think about sliding into them. It doesn’t. Damen’s kicking at the covers lazily, hooking his toes underneath to pull it up over them. Laurent turns around and looks at him, whose eyes are already half-shut. </p><p>Laurent traces Damen’s nose, mouth, neck with the line of his gaze, mind idling, unable to settle. His body feels lethargic, like liquid in Damen’s hold. It should be easy; it is easy; that’s the worst part. He doesn’t know why he can’t bring himself to close his eyes. </p><p>A small part of his brain acknowledges that maybe it had something to do with how long and tiring today has been, stressful almost to the point of triggering, and then he came home and decided he could handle a fuck <em> and </em>Damen holding him like this—but the rest of his mind doesn’t care to dwell on it. </p><p>He just watches Damen, the quiet rise of his breathing, a comforting rhythm.</p><p>“What?” Damen says, eyes still shut. Laurent knows he must be on the edge of sleep, the way he always immediately is after sex. </p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>Damen cracks an eye back open. “Then why’re you looking at me like that?”</p><p>“How am I looking at you?”</p><p>Damen’s looking at him a little more clearly now, and Laurent sort of regrets it. His thumb is rubbing a pattern into the dip of Laurent’s back. “Like you’re thinking really hard?”</p><p>Laurent turns around, so his back is pressed to Damen’s chest instead. Damen finds his hand absently and his thumb finds a new rhythm in drawing circles there. “It’s nothing.”</p><p>Halfway through a yawn: “Y’sure?”</p><p>“It’s— really stupid.”</p><p>There’s a kiss pressed to the back of his neck, then. “I wouldn’t mind.”</p><p>Laurent stares at him over his shoulder. Damen’s eyes are tired and open and earnest. As always when it comes to Damen, it’s the lack of pretense that disarms him. </p><p>“Do I still fuck like a virgin?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You know.” Laurent fakes nonchalance, turning back around so Damen can’t meet his eyes. Damen’s hand has stilled over his. It’s suddenly an unacceptable loss. “After the first time we— the first time. You said.”</p><p>He can feel Damen’s mouth tensing into a frown at his nape. “Laurent—”</p><p>“You said that I fuck. Like a virgin.” He knows his voice sounds—not hard, exactly, not angry, but cold, a little, detached, like this conversation doesn’t matter. “Do I still?”</p><p>A breath of a laugh exhales out of Damen’s lungs. “Laurent, you literally rode me for like, an hour.”</p><p>“That’s not a no.”</p><p>“Laurent, it doesn’t matter, you <em> know </em> I didn’t mean—”</p><p>“Do I?”</p><p>Damen kisses the back of his head again. “Hey, uh, can you look at me?”</p><p>“No,” Laurent says, just to be a bitch about it. “Answer the question.”</p><p>“No.” Damen moves his hand to his shoulder and Laurent lets himself be pulled until he’s on his back, so Damen’s leaning on his elbow over him, one hand on his cheek. </p><p>Damen dips his head and kisses him, sweet, and try as he might Laurent can’t stop himself from melting into it, turning boneless, kissing back hard. Laurent pants. “That’s cheating.”</p><p>A grin. “I was trying to prove a point.”</p><p>Laurent rolls his eyes.</p><p>“So?” Damen says, a prompt.</p><p>“It’s nothing. Forget about it.”</p><p>“It’s not <em> nothing.” </em> </p><p>“It doesn’t bear bringing up.”</p><p>“Why did you, then?”</p><p>Laurent shrugs. He just wants to go to sleep, now, the crawling nervousness underneath his skin be damned, but he knows Damen won’t let it pass. “You’ve always very clearly been out of my league. So—”</p><p>“I’ve—<em> what?” </em> </p><p>“What?”</p><p>Damen’s laughing, shaking his head. Laurent scowls, but Damen says, “You think <em>I’m </em>the one out of <em> your </em>league?”</p><p>“Yes, because—”</p><p>“You’re ridiculous—”</p><p>“I know I told you I wasn’t a virgin. Before.” Damen shuts up abruptly. “And I’m not. But before you I hadn’t—you know. Not since I was—”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“I’m not experienced, like— it’s only ever been you, for me.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Damen’s gaze is so attentive, a concentration of quiet focus so sincere Laurent gives up on words. “Yeah. I know. I didn’t mean— Laurent, I didn’t say that to embarrass you.”</p><p>“Yes, you did.”</p><p>Damen winces. “Not like— I’m sorry.”</p><p>Laurent frowns at him. He didn’t expect this—Damen feeling guilty and apologetic and kind—and doesn’t know why he ever expected anything but. “Whatever. Let’s just sleep.”</p><p>“Hey. <em> Hey.”  </em></p><p>Laurent flicks his gaze back to him.</p><p>“Laurent, you know it’s only ever been you for me, too.” Laurent starts to roll his eyes again, but Damen catches his hand and kisses the knuckles, presses it to his own chest. “In all the ways that matter. I don’t care how many people I’ve been with, Laurent, you’re the first person I actually fell in love with.”</p><p>Heat creeps up Laurent’s neck and ears, then. “Oh.”</p><p>“Yeah, <em> oh.” </em></p><p>Laurent tugs Damen down, shifts them both around so he can bury his face in the crook of Damen’s neck, arm slung over Damen’s chest. “Really?”</p><p>“Yes.” Damen snorted. “You’re taking advantage, now.”</p><p>“Mm.”</p><p>“Also, you realize we had sex like three separate times today, so, no, you don’t ‘fuck like a virgin,’ whatever that is, I was being an ass back then and I’m not exactly martyring myself over here now—”</p><p><em> “God, </em>you’re so—oh, shut up.”</p><p>Damen laughs. Laurent tilts his head a certain way, one he knows will make Damen bury his hand in his hair, and closes his eyes, and sleeps.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>